The Queen
by shingekinorivaille
Summary: She's only been in the States for a few months, and while it's nice not to be recognized, having a huge fan with indescribable eyes bump into her at a coffee shop isn't so bad after all. Ereri, rule 63 Levi, coffee shop au.


**The Queen**

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><p><strong>It's been far too long since I've written ereri. But yeah! Okay, some back up so this makes sense. Levi is a girl, so I went with the name Leni. She's French Korean, and her history is sort of explained in the story. Eren's a cute college student who moved to the US like a year ago for college. Yeah.<strong>

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><p>It's busy.<p>

Of course, it's always busy—it's New York City. The streets are far too crowded. The people are loud and rude. The streets and sidewalks are filthy. But Leni's sure she'll never find a city this big that has nice, quiet people and clean streets. The things she hates come with the thing she loves. And maybe it's not even that she loves big cities, but more that it's all she's ever known.

She's getting impatient. She's been standing in this line for at least fifteen minutes and she's sure it hasn't moved. Or, at least it feels like it. She's nearly to the front now; the only thing blocking her was the indecisive man with a rather terrible haircut in front of her.

She ends up ordering a coffee black. She never really was one for any of the things you could add to make it taste better. All she cared about was the caffeine.

But, of course, someone runs into her on her way out of the coffee shop. It's partly her fault, as she wasn't paying attention, and none of her coffee spilled, but it's like the terrible icing on the already disgusting cake.

"What the hell?" She frowns at the boy. He can't be older than nineteen and… and she's _never_ seen eyes like those before. Are they green or blue? Maybe even with hints of yellow? Is that even possible?

"I'm sorry!" he gasps, the indescribable eyes widening. "I didn't—I wasn't paying attention." His voice trails off as he stares at her, his eyes now squinting as he studies her closely.

She clears her throat. "If that's all, I'll be on my way." She makes her way to move past him, beginning to step around his tall frame.

"Wait! I, um, are you…?" he bites his lip, eyes glancing away from her.

"Am I what?"

"Are you Leni?"

The question sort of shocks her. Sort of. She's gotten the question before, but not since coming to the states. In Korea, it wasn't even a question, but a statement. She was a K-pop star there, debuting with a group of four other girls at the age of sixteen. She was considered the queen of the group; their far too pretty and strict leader who did all she could to make them perfect. By nineteen the group had split, leaving her to her modeling job and finishing up the TV series she was starring in. At twenty, she went back to France, continuing her modeling job in Paris for two years. She got the question a few times, but it was usually more a statement there as well.

And now she was here, in New York. It's currently January 24, and she's nearly been twenty three for a month. And here's this boy, with eyes that make her mad even though she's only been looking into them for a grand total of a minute, who actually makes her stop short and catches her off guard.

"Yes. I am." She finally says.

The boy's eyes light up. "I'm so honored to meet you! I've been following you since your debut! But I hadn't heard anything about you since you'd left France a few months back. I knew you were here, but I never thought I'd run into you. I, um, if it's not too much to ask, could I get your autograph?"

"If you have something for me to sign."

He whips his backpack around (it looks completely full of textbooks and notebooks. Isn't it a bit _too_ heavy to carry all of that stuff around?) and pulls out a notebook. He flips wildly through pages of notes until he comes to a blank page and hands it to her, along with a sharpie.

She signs it easily; it feels nice to be signing things again, like it's natural to write her name in overly large, loopy handwriting across an entire page.

He's watching intently and wonders what she's doing when she flips the page.

She glances up. "What's your name?"

"Eren. E – R – E – N."

She nods, her eyes falling back to the paper as she scribbles it down. It looks like she's writing him a note, but he can't tell. She flips the page back to her signature, handing the notebook and sharpie back.

"Thank you." He says. (She finds it adorable that he has the smallest of blushes forming on his cheeks and how his eyes almost look unbelieving that she's _there_, standing in front of him_ and talking _to him.)

"You're welcome." She nods at him before stepping past him and walking out of the shop. She shivers when the cold hits her and pulls her coat closely around herself, her hands wound tightly around the coffee cup.

Eren watches her go before flipping the page to see what else she wrote.

_Eren, _

_You're the first person to recognize me in America. Thank you._

And then,

Is that?

No.

No way.

A number.

She gave him her number.

He closes the notebook and tucks it safely into his backpack, walking out of the shop. So much for a morning coffee, that encounter woke him right up.

_How long should I wait to call? Or should I text her? Yeah, I'll text her._

_Wait until Mikasa and Armin hear about this._

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><p><strong>So, I got this idea maybe two weeks ago and I finally got the chance to write it. I hope you guys liked it! Maybe I'll write more eventually? If you guys liked it enough.<strong>


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